


The sea that calls you home

by cassiopiea



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 18:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopiea/pseuds/cassiopiea
Summary: Arya Stark has spent a year exploring western lands, but her thoughts keep bringing her back to a certain Baratheon Lord and the way she left things with him. Lord Gendry Baratheon is everything Arya said he would be, a wonderful lord to his people. But when the northern girl he loves sails back to his shore, what will happen?





	The sea that calls you home

**Author's Note:**

> There are no words to explain how upset I was that this ship that I followed for so long had practically no interaction in the end. They spent 10 minutes focusing on Tyrion fixing chairs, they can spend five minutes wrapping up Gendry and Arya's story. Takes place some time after GOT episode 8x06.

The cartographers were working below deck as the sea tossed the ship along rolling waves. They were in the midst of a powerful storm.

One cartographer looked up from the hills she drew to find her commander, who was sitting at the window sill merely watching the heavy rains and waves beat against the windows. Her knees were pulled up, arms around them lightly. To anyone else she was stoic, but Neya could see sorrow in her eyes.

She decides to take a break as the map is nearly finished and prod the great commander’s thoughts. A step.

“Lady Arya?”

She sees the commander’s mouth quick up, but her gaze still rests out the window.

She motions to the empty space near her feet, an offering to sit with her.

“I told you to just call me Arya.”

Neya smiles slightly and takes the seat.

Neither talks as they gaze out the window. Neya hesitates before asking the question at the tip of her tongue.

“Do you miss your family?”

Arya doesn’t move. But she can feel the sting in her eyes at the question.

_Jon, Sansa, Bran._

The friend who made her wolf loaves and got better every time. _Hot Pie._

The boy who - “ _I could be your family_.” _Gendry_.

She closes her eyes for a moment as the memories come rushing back. She finally sighs, leaning her head against the window pane, before looking at Neya.

“Yes.”

Neya hesitates again because she isn’t sure if she’s pushed too far, but she admires and worries for the girl in front of her. The Hero of Winterfell, Bringer of Dawn. As their journey west of Westeros had been frightening and unknowing, they became friends and shared stories. She wants to know.

“The boy you mentioned once, the smith,” she watches as Arya looks back out the window. “Do you miss him too?”

“Yes.” It’s a whisper.

Arya thinks of his blue eyes and dark hair. The smirk on his face whenever he teased her. The courage and loyalty he showed when he protected her and kept her name secret.

“Do you want to know the truth?,” she asks slowly. Neya nods subtlety across from her. She smiles kindly at the girl of ten and seven who has become a close friend.

“I’m still in love with him.”

She hears a loud boom outside the window and her gaze is pulled back to the flashing outside. Thunder always reminded her of a certain lord of the Storm Lands. As she watched the storm rage outside, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a storm near Gendry too. He was leagues away, but she wondered if he was just in awe as she.

“Is that why we’re heading to Ship Breakers Bay instead of back to King’s Landing?”

Arya’s gaze is fixed to the sea, but her eyes shutter for a moment. She can lie to herself and say the ship is in need of repairing. Weapons are needed. But of course, she missed him.

Neya knows the conversation is done when their commander stands up to take a look at progress at the map, then wordlessly retreats to her chambers.

——

It takes five days to reach Ship Breakers Bay. It’s one of the more famous ports in Westeros, though after the war of the Five Kings, it had become scarred by pirates who saw how weak it’s defenses had become.

But as the ship gets nearer, she marvels at the bustling port and city in front of her. Truth be told she’s never been to the Storm Lands, but as she takes the sight of the rolling waves in and the green hilly landscape just off to the side, she can’t help but smile. It’s beautiful.

But then then the questions fill her mind and pulls the smile right off her face.

_What if she said yes? What if she lived here? What if she had been able to see Gendry become the wonderful lord she knew he could be?_

She’s surprised when they dock to see clear skies. The Storm Lands aren’t known to favor dry weather, but she welcomes it the same.

She takes her first step onto the harbor and searches the town. But she already knows where to find him.

——

“Did you hear the lord has built a new building on the edge of the port for orphans?”

“Aye, I heard he’s been having Maester Juyne and even Lord Davos...”

“He’s got the looks of Robert, the courage of Stannis and the kind heart of Renly...”

"Aye.”

Arya smiles as she passes another villager speak of the lord fondly.

_'I don’t know how to be the Lord of anything. I don’t even know how to use a fork.'_

She always knew he would do great things because he had a good heart, one that would carry him through hardships and would heal the people of the Storm Lands.

She’s almost to the smithy when she catches a flash of yellow. Her breath catches in her chest as she moves quietly to follow.

_'Say another word about my brother, and I’ll cut your throat out.'_

She remembered as his blue eyes turned to her and lit up for a moment. A smile tugging at his lips for a second before it was gone.

She remembers how good he looked in those black leathers, a Baratheon cape around his shoulders. He was fully clean for the first time she’d ever seen him. But she was impressed with the level-headedness and control he showed with his decisions at the council.

She had done anything then to avoid his gaze because she knew she would leave once again, much longer, without a goodbye. Because if he had asked her, she doesn’t know if she’d ever be able to turn him down again.

She sees the yellow disappear behind the doors of a large castle. It was at the edge of the city, with one side to the sea and one side to the city. She looks up at the guards and then to the windows on the lower floors of the walls. This shouldn’t be too hard.

——

When she sneaks around the corridor, she hears his voice, unmistakeable, she could recognize it from a crowd.

“Lords, please.”

But his voice is much deeper now from a year ago and much more commanding. She bites her lip as she peaks around the corner. Seven lords of the Storm Lands are gathered at a grand table. And at the head of the table... there he is. _Gendry_.

The boy who wasn’t born to be a lord, meant to be nothing but a bastard. But who fought to be anything but. She remembers when he would practice his smithing in the middle of the night as they lied awake in the woods.

 _'I’ve got to be better,'_ he always said.

But she wanted to tell him he was perfect, just the way he was.

She took him in silently. The year apart had made him leaner. Her gaze travels to his chest and arms, the more prominent bulges hidden beneath his black lordly leathers. Much stronger, she thought.

However her eyes can’t help but be drawn to his face. His hair is longer now, just like when they travelled together, but much neater. She imagines running her hands through the silky tresses. A small beard had begun to grow around his lips. But it’s the electric blue eyes she can see even from across the room that draws her attention.

He’s an open book to her and she can see the frustration storming in his eyes.

She hears another lord speak and focuses to concentrate on what they’re saying.

“Just think of the line of succession, my lord.”

Arya feels her chest constrict. She didn’t think they would be talking about that.

She studies him as he looks down at the table. At the frustration still in his eyes, but now at the hint of sorrow.

“I don’t want to marry.”

It’s quietly spoken, but she hears it clearly as if he were right next to her.

“But, my lord -“

Gendry cuts him off.

“Council dismissed.”

She can see the lords leave in a flurry, but her eyes are only drawn to him. He’s still sitting there deep in thought. And it occurs to her how much she wants to wrap her arms around him and just kiss him. She sees his head move up and she ducks back into the shadows.

——

As the last lord leaves, he finally looks up at the alcove. He thinks he saw her, a wisp of dark brown hair. But the last year full of ghosts and dreams of a wild and beautiful wolf tell him otherwise. He decides to return to the forge. There’s a lot on his mind that needs to be tempered.

——

She’s surprised at the view of the balcony within the lord’s chambers. She only had to sneak past a few guards to get into his room, but it was worth it. You could see the entire city below and the ocean to the left. Villagers and workers running about. It’s a thriving city, no doubt due to their high lord.

She catches him below her, now divested in his cloak. She sees him enter the open air smithy and come up to a boy who couldn’t have been more than ten.

She watches as he teaches the boy how to hammer the metal just right. And she gets lost in watching him teach. Every so often villagers would come and watch and speak to the lord. She saw how his eyes would light up in kindness whenever he addressed them.

He was the kindest man she’s ever met besides her brothers. She looks out into the horizon. The sun is going down, golden rays beginning to peak out. It’s time, she thinks.

——

Gendry finishes his lesson with the orphan, Tom. He smiles as he watches the boy work with precision. He knows the boy will be a fine blacksmith one day.

He looks up at the horizon and sees it. The beginning of golden hour.

He watches the waves off in the distance, wondering where she was in the great, vast sea. Somewhere exploring and adventuring perhaps. It hurts him more than he can admit it that she didn’t say goodbye or even ask him to come.

He looks around him at the beautiful city. It was his home from the moment he saw it. He knew. He fell in love with the sea, the green hills, but most of all the people who accepted him as theirs.

But he can’t help hurt he feels when he remembers the beautiful northern girl who took his heart first and was his home for so long.

He thinks with a sad sigh, if she had asked, he would have left this all behind.

——

He enters the castle wearily.

' _A lord never rests_ ,' Set Davos once told him long ago.

He feels the weariness in his bones from a long day’s work and sighs as he gets closer to his chambers. He thinks he’ll take a bath and watch the sun set over his favorite balcony.

But when he enters his room, he finds that he’s not entirely alone.

He freezes as he sees the lone figure on his balcony, sitting on the railing, head turned watching the sun set. He can see the sky turn pink and the orange hue of the sun illuminate her figure.

Her body is facing his, but her eyes are turned east. He steps closer, as quietly as he can, afraid to ruin the mirage.

But deep down somehow he knows this is _different_ from his dreams.

As he steps out on the balcony, she finally turns to him. And he can’t breathe. The sunset casts golden light around her much longer hair, making her glow. Her hair is free from binds, similar to when they were children. Her face and arms are tanner now, the rest of her hidden by shapely black leathers.

His gaze sweeps up to her grey eyes, still intense, burning into his. Untamed. Beautiful.

“ _Arya._ ”

He sees a smile come to her face. “Mi’lord.”

He can’t stop the small quirk of his mouth no matter how hard he tries. But he simply moves to the balcony and says nothing. His hands clasp at the railing.

 _'Too far_ ,' Arya thinks as she looks at him. He’s a few feet away. Within touch, but still so far.

She can see the storms rolling behind his eyes.

When he speaks, he doesn’t turn to her.

“What are you doing here, Arya?”

He sounds so weary, so defeated and Arya hates that she did this to him.

She decides truth.

“I missed my family. Jon, Sansa, Bran...”

She pauses and looks up at him.

“You.”

She laughs. “Even hot pie.”

She waits for him to say something, say anything. She can see the sun setting behind her, telling her time is running out.

When he finally speaks, she is surprised by the heartbreak in his voice.

“But why are you here?”

She decides to answer his question with another of hers.

“You haven’t gotten married yet?”

She watches as his grip on the railing tightens. The only tell-tale of the affect her question has. She almost misses his next words. _Almost_.

“None of this matters unless you’re with me,” he says quietly.

She feels her heart _break_ as she hears the same words he once told her, long ago. On a festive night where they conquered death. Except it’s sadder this time. No hint of hope, just a simple statement. She doesn’t know what to say. He sighs and looks down from the sunset a moment.

“No, I’m still alone.”

_“I don’t have a family.”_

She feels the prickling behind her eyes and closes them before she can let them fall. She is his family. She knows. But she left him before he could ever know.

When she feels she’s reclaimed control of her emotions. She finally opens her eyes to see his blue eyes on hers, searching.

“I missed you, Arya.”

She feels a tear drop then, blazing down her cheek.

She sees his right arm raise slightly toward her, but then he turns away, walking to the other side of the balcony.

She sees the hard set of his shoulders and the way his hands transform into fists. She decides she can’t leave it like this.

“I came because I wanted to tell you that I _love_ you.”

Her voice breaks at the word. She’s losing her nerve, but she has to say it.

“When I left, I had to find myself. I had lost so much of who I was. And I’m getting better every day, but I realized how I left things with you.”

She sees him turn slightly toward her and that’s all the encouragement she needs. She moves off the railing and steps tentatively to him.

“I came to tell you I love you Gendry Waters Baratheon and _I will always be your family._ ”

He’s facing her now and the storms of his blue eyes have calmed. She watches as he moves toward her. One of his fists loosen up, his palm open, offering.

She looks down at it then back up at him.

“What are you saying?,” she sees him ask.

She exhales as another tear falls.

“I’m saying I won’t be a lady.”

She watches his eyes carefully. But he gives nothing away. She might have asked once how he got so good at that.

“I’m saying I won’t wear dresses or entertain guests.”

She looks into his eyes as she lifts her hand and grasps his. She watches as his eyes widen slightly.

“I’m saying okay.”

She watches his brow quirk up. “Okay?”

She fights the urge to roll her eyes and call him a stupid bull, but she sees the hope gleaming behind his eyes. She’s in awe that she’s able to put it there.

“I think I’m ready now.”

She lifts her other hand to his broad shoulder, fiddling with the leather fastens at his neck, gathering her thoughts. Finally she looks up.

“I want to be with you. _Be your family_ , _Gendry_. If you’ll still have me.”

She sees each emotion as it floats across his face. Surprise. Wonder. Astonishment. Love. Happiness. Then -

"Okay." A wide grin that lights up his eyes.

And then his lips are on hers and she sighs into his kiss. Their lips meeting each other again and again in a dance. She missed this. His hands are at her waist now, lifting her up. Her hands are around his neck, pulling him closer.

The light of the sun bathes the couple in its light, ethereal before finally falling on the horizon of the sea.


End file.
